Disclosure: I do not own BS, or any of its characters, yet they live on in my heart. SO SAY WE ALL!
As the chief medical officer aboard Galactica, Major Sherman Cottle had seen just about everything in his forty-plus years of duty to the Colonial Fleet. He'd been witness to the birth of a half-human/half-machine baby, not to mention; a miracle cancer cure, countless injuries, horrific burns, dismemberments, sicknesses, and even the occasional embarrassing rash.
Nothing shocked him anymore.
Making the rounds of Sickbay, Cottle kept up his well-practiced stern visage.
The ship was falling in around them. It smelled like a latrine, thanks to the Cylon goo. Riots over shortages were breaking out almost daily, if not by the hour. Pitiful moans and soul-wrenching cries could be heard from the hospital ward's growing population.
Rumors about their collective futures, swirled.
War was frakking hell.
Noting his watch, Cottle dug his hands into the pocket of his lab coat, and made the long walk to the cubicle of his favorite patient.
The Young Lady had been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day he'd met her. The most stubborn of females, a mule in fact. Her tenacity, up until recently, had proven to be the greatest of all weapons against the hateful disease she fought.
Dammed if losing her would hurt more than all the others put together.
Cottle stopped midway to sign off on an order given to him by a nurse. In doing so, he caught an unusual odor circulating upon the recycled air.
It was something he hadn't smelled in years. Sweetly pungent and chemical in nature. Out of place in a place of healing.
Of course, it would emanate from the president's cubicle.
Knowing Roslin and her admiral boyfriend, it could be anything. Cottle had walked in on them on numerous occasions during her treatments, catching the two engaged in many a tender moment. As her cancer worsened and resistance became more and more futile, the couple had gotten downright creative in their distractions. Just the other day, they'd been sharing a spliff of New Caprican herb.
He had to hand it to the couple- they made the best of a very bad situation.
Nearing the curtained bay, Cottle decided the odor was neither illicit, nor alcoholic in nature. A relief, considering Adama's recent downward spiral into addiction to booze and pills. The doc didn't want to find the Old Man with a flask in his hand and drunk out of his mind, as the Lady slept.
Still, there was a familiarity to the mystery that was presented to him.
After taking a deep breath for the sake of courage, Cottle pulled back the privacy curtain and peeked inside.
The scene before him nearly brought him to his knees. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Sherman Cottle didn't consider himself a hopeless romantic. Three failed marriages and more than enough shore leave dalliances did that to one's heart...
But the sight of his hardened CO, delicately and quite skillfully, painting the nails of Humanity's most powerful woman, had to be the most touching thing he'd ever laid eyes upon.
The woman lay dying, with a morpha drip in her arm. A shadow of her former self, all reminders of the outward and obvious beauty that was Laura Roslin had been stripped away. Her hair. Vigor. Lithe form. And yet, there was her lover, her husband by all that mattered, lovingly giving her one that one last luxury.
A final bit of honor to her lasting femininity.
Wordlessly, the couple stared into each other's eyes. Blue into green. Green into blue. Roslin & Adama had a language all their own. As was often the case when others dared to intrude, the two were quite oblivious to Cottle's presence.
Leaving well enough alone, the doctor ducked out of the cubicle as quietly as possible.
The previous mystery odor was solved. It was merely nail polish that he'd smelled, familiar to him from having grown up with three older sisters, but it now served as so much more.
Shakily, Cottle fumbled for a cigarette from the pocket of his lab coat. In the process, he barely noticed Ishay tap him on the arm.
"Are you alright?" she asked. Her features carried genuine concern.
"No," he replied honestly.
"What then-"
Before the medic could finish, Cottle took her about the shoulders and swept her into the grandest kiss he'd ever bestowed upon a woman in all his life.
To both of their surprises, Ishay tossed aside the charts she'd been carrying, and fervently returned the favor.
The simple luxuries of living. One had to take them when they could.
# # #
"You're quite good at that. Who knew you had such an unexpected talent?"
Without looking up, Bill continued the task of painting the nude polish on the nail of one of Laura's too-thin fingers.
He tried pushing away all the memories he had of her hands, but could not. Small and perfect, and incredibly strong. Gesturing wildly over some point to be made. Playing with her pen as she mulled over a problem. Following a verse of Scripture. Touching him in a myriad of ways.
The brush slipped a bit, and he swiftly drew away the excess around her cuticle with the edge of his own thumb nail. It was an action he'd seen his mother perform, ages before.
"Perhaps I should consider it as a second career, should my admiralship not pan out."
For the first time in forever, Laura laughed out loud. The sound was pure and genuine, and echoed of better times. Of course, she soon paid the price and lapsed into a seemingly endless coughing spell. But asked later if it had been worth it, the woman would have heartily said yes.
"You never told me how you came upon the polish," she said eventually. Her voice was somewhere between a croak and a rasp.
Bill offered Laura a sip of water from a cup, and remembered the first time he'd heard her voice. Secretary Roslin wanted to network the computers aboard Galactica. Her tone had been firm, but placating. It had turned him on as much as it infuriated him.
"Apollo," Bill replied with a sympathetic cough of his own, while coming back to reality. "It was in Dee's locker. After she... when she died.. he found it among her things. Kept it all this time. Starbuck doesn't have much use for the stuff these days, so he thought you might be able to use it."
Laura smiled at the thought of Kara, a few years back. All dressed up on Colonial Day, and dancing aboard Cloud Nine in a beautiful blue gown. And Lee, so young and idealistic in his dress grays. Such occasions, as rare as they were even then, were long gone.
So much had happened. Too much.
"I'll be sure to thank your son, the next time I see him."
Finishing her last nail, Bill moved back to study his work. He grinned proudly at his brush skills. To Laura, and to himself.
"I guess model ship building has finally paid off," he stated dryly. "Want me to paint your toes?"
She laughed again. Somewhat easier, and without a following coughing spell.
"Better not. I don't want to get used to thinking of you as my personal Glam Squad."
Bill huffed, somewhat dejectedly. He loved spoiling her whenever possible.
"I am a little cold, however."
That had always been one of her stand-by openings with him.
Brightening, Bill took the bait and proceeded to remove his uniform jacket and boots. Carefully, he hoisted himself onto Laura's hospital bed and slipped beneath the starched linens to lay beside her.
"I'm at your service, Madam."
Once in his arms, she melted into him. He tucked her head beneath his chin, feeling the cloth of her head scarf, instead of the weight and softness of her hair that should have pooled across his chest.
Laura wasn't a vain woman by any means, but Bill knew the way she looked secretly still bothered her. It didn't him. Publicly or privately. He would take her any way that he could get her, and told her that with great regularity.
A muffled squeak roused Bill from his thoughts.
"Are you okay?" he asked with marked concern while easing his hold on the woman.
The mutiny and recent loss of Hera Agathon to Cavil's forces had taken its toll on Laura, allowed her cancer to take root in her bones and tissues. She'd been in near constant pain lately, and the last thing Bill wanted to do was hurt her even further.
A familiar light shown in Laura's eyes when she looked up at him, allaying his fears, if only for a little while.
"I was just trying to imagine you in a manicurist salon," she explained with a shaky giggle. "MR. HUSKER'S NAIL EMPORIUM. Pink walls, and a dainty white table. An antique cappuccino machine in the corner."
His chest rumbled beneath her ear. "You might be surprised."
"I hope I'd be able to book an appointment," Laura continued. "Your client list would be huge."
Lifting her chin with one of his hands, Bill kissed her tenderly. "You're the only one I'd ever want, Laura."
"Honey-"
He shook his head, interrupting her. Tears streamed down his face. "You think I love this ship more than you, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I love you more than-"
Calling upon a burst of strength, the woman moved forward to capture his mouth with her own, catching him off-guard with a kiss full of passion and history.
"I love you that much, too, Bill."
They kissed again, before finding sleep in each other's arms.
So much was to happen in the coming days. Bill had made the decision to abandon Galactica. Send her out in style. And ultimately, to rescue Hera. The outcome was more than uncertain, but in that moment, he and Laura had each other.
It was enough.
The simple luxuries of living. They had to take them when they could.
#END#
A/N I was inspired to write this after seeing Laura place her hand on the Raptor's canopy, before she and Bill flew off to see more of the planet, and find their cabin site. Laura's nails were perfectly manicured- even at the end of her life! So I wondered, in her weakened state, how did that happen? Of course, Bill would do anything for her... And I love Cottle, so he had to get in on the action, too. With help from Ishay!